


VI-29

by rodentqueen



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rodentqueen/pseuds/rodentqueen
Summary: VI-29 is a prototype courser whose humanity gets the better of her.





	1. 1

Dr. Ayo wasn't particularly well liked among his colleagues, but he was respected. It was no surprise that he was given the job of acting head of the Synth Retention Bureau when Zimmerman went missing, and it was only a little surprising when he was given control over the Institute's newest project, VI-29. It was decided that while the current coursers were effective, they were having trouble with recent missions that required infiltration. Their brute strength and sharp cunning were great in battle, but their dull eyes and duller personalities were not so good at tricking the regular folk of the Commonwealth into thinking they were one of them. Normally they’d use a regular model synth for these tasks, but often it was required to have the increased strength and battle prowess of a courser that the base models didn’t have. Of course, Ayo was all too eager to remedy this. He had been nearly caught up on his work at the time and was looking for something new, and this project tickled his brain in just the right way. 

And so, authorization was given to the doctor to begin formulating a courser that would circumvent the issues that the others could not. 

“Women are much more sympathetic, especially attractive ones!” He told his assistants with exuberance as they calibrated the synth extruder to his specifications. They nodded in agreement, not really hearing him. The small man paced a bit as the final details were secured in the machine’s memory and it hummed to life, the overhead lights dimming for a second as the generators compensated for the extra strain. Ayo had gone over the details a hundred times, but he still worried that things might not be perfect. 

Enormous spinning rings flew around a pond of organic and inorganic material, building up layers one by one over a metal skeleton that housed all the inner workings that would make Ayo’s synth tick. _My_ synth, he thought greedily. His to do with as he pleased, at least to an extent. He watched greedily, bony fingers twitching with excitement as the body began to take shape. First it looked like a half melted candle stick, but soon enough there began to be the telltale curves of a female form being molded into the still pliable material. Arms, thick legs, a head, and at the very end the synth was given a face. She looked just how he had hoped, curvy in all the right places with the soft, sloping face like he'd seen in those ancient Greek paintings. The two young assistants standing at the control terminal couldn't help but notice how he stared at it with laser focus and a bead of sweat on his upper lip. They both grew a tad uncomfortable, because he tended to look this way before an angry outburst, but were relieved when he gave them the rest of the day off for a job well done. On their way out, however, they felt even more uneasy. Ayo was a stickler for work and not once had they ever heard of him sending anyone away early. 

__

__

“Designation VI-29, ready.” A female voice said, sounding a little robotic. Ayo made a note to tinker with her vocal modulator later. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being away from the Institute was a welcome respite for VI-29, sweltering heat aside. She'd grown accustomed to the wasteland’s weather quickly, finding it a bit less oppressive somehow than the icy air conditioning of home, but it didn't stop her skin from itching as sweat grew under her clothes and chafed her. Cambridge wasn't far, she reminded herself. The idea of a break in the shade was growing too enticing to ignore, and it was important to keep her mind straight. Rests were not part of the mission. She was to find Arcjet and oversee the Institute's operation there to completion, nothing more. 

The city skyline was looming now, sitting silently in its death as it had been for two hundred years. She swallowed, her throat dry. She didn't _need_ to drink, but it sure would be welcome right now. VI-29 fingered her laser rifle with boredom as she instinctively took a left turn into the cracked road toward her destination. Except, the sound of laser weapons much like her own in the opposite direction drew her attention. Not just anyone could acquire such weapons, and there had been a research team deployed not far from here that no one had heard from recently. Her directive took second place to helping her fellow Institute brethren, if only for the moment. If they were in distress, Ayo would be most pleased that his creation had been the one to rescue the little eggheads from their fate as mutant chow. 

VI-29 changed course to head toward the sounds of battle, weapon raised. Her arms seemed to move on their own, and maybe they did. She was _programmed_ to act quickly in times of violence, not taught like a human would be. Sometimes it was unnerving how her body just reacted to things without her consent, but alas that was just how it was for her. She was a believer that one could fight all they want and never overcome their nature and perhaps even more so when one had literal codes in their minds telling them what to do. Human nature was tough, but so were computers.

As she walked, she was careful to tune out all extraneous thoughts and focus on the high pitched _choo choo_ noise made by the laser weapons in the distance. They were fairly steady and regular, and as she drew nearer to their source her keenly tuned ears were able to hear the telltale noise of ghouls. She wrinkled her nose in disgust; filthy creatures they were. Readjusting her rifle in her arms as one might rebalance a swaddled infant, VI-29 ducked into an alley between two crumbling buildings. Hopefully taking a side street would give her the drop on the situation rather than having to run through a barrage of biters before getting to the research team. Idiots, she snarled to herself. How could they have gotten themselves into such a predicament?

The sounds of fighting grew to a fever pitch as she snaked through alleys piled high with rubble and rot, and a few minutes later she was sure she was just one turn away from the scene of the action. Pressing her back against the cool brick of a prewar police station, according to the navigation chip implanted in her brain anyway, she gave her weapon a last check to make sure it was hot before swinging around the bend and charging in. 

From that moment on, her thinking brain mostly shut off and handed the reins to her combat initiatives. While not aware of her actions like she would be if she were petting a dog or taking a drink of water, her awareness was a bit hazy as if watching a movie from the back of an audience. VI-29 knew what she was doing, but her body mostly did it all without asking. The swimming sounds of unfamiliar voices in her peripheral were secondary to eliminating the immediate threat, which was currently lunging at her face and screaming so wildly flecks of foul spittle sprayed her face. An absent, strange thought occurred to her. Don’t really mind a bit of a hose down in this heat.

“Civilian in range, check your fire!”

That was definitely not something an Institute scientist would say, or even their escort. For a single second the veil of fight, fight, kill! was lifted and the synth realized she was not in the company she’d expected. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Her cover was surely blown. As soon as the thought occurred, it was shoved into a filing cabinet for later inspection as another flailing ghoul met its end at the mean side of her laser rifle and disintegrated into a pile of stinking ash and goo at her feet.

She could no longer hear the fire of other weapons or the snarling of attackers, but when a heavy metal hand clasped her shoulder she spun with the quickness of a jungle cat and jammed the hot barrel of her gun under the stranger’s chin, only to be met with the mechanical noise of laser weapons spinning up for another barrage. 

“I wouldn’t.” An aggressive second voice barked from the top of the stairs that led to the building entrance. 

Her fighting instincts slunk away into the inky blackness of her brain and she realized what she was doing, with a sharp shrug to dislodge the hand and several cautious steps back, VI-29 took in the group that she had helped. They certainly were not who she had expected them to be, but her data banks held no mention of any faction that wore the types of uniforms the two standing on the steps wore, and the power armor that their leader wore wasn’t tied to any specific group. Raiders and lucky wastelanders alike wore it often enough. If the Institute was aware of these people, they had not deemed it urgent enough to add it to her memory. The idea was maddening, but she kept her pale round face still as stone. 

 

“Apologies for startling you, civilian,” the man in armor started, thick brows furrowing into a glare that made her feel like she’d done something wrong, “And not that we don’t appreciate the assistance, but what’s your business here?” 

The synth nearly snorted. Did he not expect anyone to show up with all that racket they were making? She retained her composure however, and instead made to relax her arms and appear less of a threat. As she did so, so did the pair standing behind them. 

“I heard the gunfire from a ways away and felt inclined to help.” She said cooly, not blinking. She forgot to do that sometimes when in conversation. 

“Then that sets you above the rest of the people out here. I apologize if I seem suspicious, but our mission so far here in the Commonwealth has been a difficult one.”

Instantly, her ears perked up. So willingly offering information? She wouldn’t interrupt. The man then went on to tell her about how his group, the Brotherhood of Steel, had recently arrived from the Capital Wasteland in order to...prevent a second extinction event by gathering up all the tech they could? It sounded like a stupid plot to her, but she didn’t stop him. Perhaps her superiors would be interested in this information. The conversation was going well enough until the ferret-faced woman on the steps chimed in to inform her leader that they needed a way to boost their distress signal to alert their fellows to their location. He nodded gravely, and things went a bit hazy as he continued on to say that the exact piece of tech they needed was nearby- in Arcjet Systems. 

VI-29’s stomach felt like it had dropped out of her belly and onto the floor. She would have to kill this poor man, and perhaps his companions as well if they made themselves troublesome. She never liked dragging others into her business, especially when it was going to end badly for them. 

“Judging from the way you handled yourself just now, you may be of great use. Haylen will need to stay behind and tend to Rhys’ injuries and it’d be a fool’s mission to go alone. This is irregular, but I would ask you if you could lend your aid once more.”

In the few seconds it took for him to finish speaking, the courser’s brain had thought of fifty different scenarios and all of them unfortunately ended with his death. At least, she thought, she would not need to kill his companions. 

“I will accompany you.” She said, feeling a bit sad for him. He had no idea. 

“Excellent. You can resupply inside and-“ 

“I do not need supplies.” She said simply. 

“Oh. I suppose we can leave immediately then. The sooner this is done the sooner we can get evac, anyway.”

Grimly and with some regret, VI-29 spun on her boot heel and strode easily in the direction of Arcjet. She needed no guidance, even if it had been dark outside instead of early afternoon, and it seemed like it surprised the man as he lingered behind for a few seconds before following.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for NON CON in this chapter. Feel free to skip it if you’re uncomfortable with that, it’s not super important to the story to know every detail.

Ayo was a blustering fire storm when he was angry, and this was the angriest Vi had ever seen him. She'd scrubbed her data banks of her meeting with the Paladin, but had missed a crucial spot. She sat quietly as her memories played over a projector on the wall, and the frame was replaying the same two seconds over and over of her turning from Danse and leaving. This alone wasn't so severe of an infraction, but at the very last frame of the scene the transmitter was visible in his hands. It had not slipped past Ayo. 

“Of all the hairbrained, ill planned, devious, disgusting displays of treachery! Handing over Institute tech to a known Brotherhood soldier has got to be the most vile thing any synth has ever done in the history of this organisation!” He screamed, veins bulging on his neck and spit flying from his mouth. 

She had nothing to say for herself, and didn't dare speak anyway. Her cheek still burned from the first time she tried to defend her actions. 

“Are you malfunctioning, _synth_?” He spat the word like it was foul tasting and she flinched at it. “Do you need to be reconditioned into a fucking janitorial unit? Is following orders in the field so difficult for your fucking processors that you can't so much as play fetch like the dog you are?” He was still screaming, but the walls were thick enough that no one would hear. That was how Ayo was, big and bad behind closed doors. In the company of his compatriots, Vi had noticed he was something of a beta. A blustering, demanding beta, but still one nonetheless.

Vi shook her head slowly, nodes and wires attached to her scalp jingling quietly. “It was an error of judgement.” She half-whispered, even though she knew it wouldn't help. 

_Crack!_

Her other cheek stung from the slap, but she didn't break eye contact. She wondered if other synths were disciplined in the same way. She also wondered if Ayo trusted her so much that he allowed himself to forget how easily she could snap him in half. He roared suddenly and pelted her face with several more backhands until her pale cheeks shone pink, and she felt her suspicions confirmed. He was too comfortable with things. For the first time, conspiratorial thoughts cropped up in her head. Vi kept her face still, so as to placate him. He normally tired himself out quickly. 

“I would ask to…fix things.” 

“I should fucking fix you. That's what I get for putting the standard intelligence level in a courser. They told me to just make you stupid and docile like the rest but I didn't listen. It only makes sense that you’d go and get _ideas_.” He was pacing now, using short feverish steps that made her head hurt to listen to. It was too echoey in this room. 

“I did not _know_ the Brotherhood. I didn't know they were enemies. If you would let me enter their ranks undercover I could-” He cut her off with a closed fist to the teeth this time. One of the lower front ones was left feeling loose, but she didn't let the pain cross her features. If she cried out it would just fan the flames of his anger.

“You'll do nothing else to humiliate me, you bitch. Come with me, now.” He grabbed her arm roughly, fingers digging into her skin through the thin uniform she wore, and yanked her from her seat. She yelped as the nodes on her temples were pulled free and left tiny, bleeding pin pricks on her skin. Her stomach dropped into her feet.

“Am I being reconditioned?” She said, alarm in her voice. When she got no reply the synth repeated herself in what could only be called a shriek. It was the cry of a wild animal, injured and pinned in a corner. A cry for help. Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Please no, I'll do anything. Please!” He ignored her again and they left the man's office, taking a left and then a right that confirmed her suspicions. Vi ripped her arm away from him and he looked a little surprised, like he didn't know she was capable of independent movement. Instead of running, the synth dropped to her knees in front of him and cried. The thought of losing who she was entirely and being made to scrub toilets until her circuits gave out was too much to consider.

“Please, please. Give me a second chance. Let me prove myself! I'll do anything!” She wailed, fingers entwined in his lab coat. Her face was wet with tears now, and a few technicians who were busy going to and fro from different offices had stopped to watch the spectacle.

Dr. Ayo wrapped his fingers in a mass of her thick brown curls and yanked her to her feet, glared into her eyes for a moment and shoved her back toward his office amidst loud sobs of thanks. Normally, Vi was a vision of composure and coolheadedness but now wasn’t the time for pride. She hadn’t been alive long, only four months and nine days according to her records, but the synth had grown to like being sentient in that amount of time. If it could be called that anyway. Depending on who you asked in the Institute, she was not truly a living thing. A few amongst them might disagree but they would never do so openly, lest they be expelled from the facility and mocked openly among those they had once counted as friends. Growing attached to the synths was strictly prohibited, let alone thinking of them on the same level as a real human being. In fact, it was even in the employee handbook, rule number three section two if she remembered correctly. What she did remember with perfect clarity was the beating she’d gotten when Ayo had discovered her peeking in his terminal to read it. The memory still gave her anxiety. 

Being so physically strong yet unable to fight back was maddening; some days Vi thought of finally doing something about the abuse she endured at the hands of her ‘father’, but it was only fantasy. Vi only existed as a pet project for him, a test run to see if it was possible to make coursers who weren’t the dull, quiet specimens that roamed the halls in their black dusters and sunglasses. She knew better than to bit the hand that not only fed but was responsible for her entire existence. Synths who turned on their masters were not reconditioned, that she knew for sure. She still missed her friend ZR-12, a fellow courser who’d had one such malfunction early on in her life and who was promptly scrapped for parts. His cries still rang in her ears if she lingered on the thought too long, as well as in her dreams.

“How dare you embarrass me in front of my colleagues.” The doctor’s tone was no longer so volatile, but there was an undercurrent of something much more dangerous. 

“I-I don’t want to die.” She said, backing away and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. He scoffed loudly.

“You are a machine. Machines don’t die. They serve,” he spat, rubbing his scalp vigorously for a moment, “Come here. Get down.” He said, voice full of hatred and with a single bony finger pointing at his feet. Confused, she did as he said. 

He didn’t speak again, just bunched the hem of his lab coat up around his hips and shuffled his fly and underclothes to the side. Vi furrowed her brows and looked away, unsure. She knew of human anatomy, but only in the capacity of which pressure points would do what and where to shoot someone for the quickest kill. The man looming above her grunted with annoyance and reached down to pull her chin back toward his body with a clipped command to… _suck it_? She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Perhaps one of his blows had damaged an auditory nerve and she wasn’t processing things as she should, but when she opened her mouth to question it she had not even enough time to take a breath before he gripped the back of her head and forced himself on her. 

Vi choked and pushed against Ayo’s hips, unable to breathe. He held her tightly as she panicked at his feet, and after a second of bathing in her fear he began to guide her head back and forth with a pleasurable grunt. Vi was just glad for the opportunity to draw breath and swallow back the bile that rose up when he’d all but attacked her gag reflex; unfortunately just as soon as he offered some release he pushed her face back down again. More pushing and muffled squeals, thick ropes of saliva dripping down her chin and onto his shiny black shoes added to her humiliation. She’d never heard of anything like this happening before, but for some reason it felt keenly wrong. The sensation of disgust and anger began creeping up her spine as he pumped away, using her and ignoring her cries. Doctor Ayo didn’t even speak to her again, just stared down at her with hate filled eyes while she tried not to maintain eye contact.

The pumping eventually quickened, and her jaw began to ache. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could tolerate this, and though her tears had long dried Vi’s body was still wracked with dry, fearful sobs. Ayo had always been a hard, unpleasant man, but she’d never expected to be...assaulted in such a way, if this could be considered assault at all. It felt like it should be, anyway. Could an object, a robot, be assaulted? The synth would have rather taken a thousand punches than one single second of...this, that was certain. 

Slowly, Ayo’s speed increased to almost a fever pitch. At first, he had tasted like sweat and soap, but now her tongue and lips were rubbed so raw that she didn’t taste much at all. Her nose was running, the front of her uniform was soaked with spit and her eyes were swollen from crying. She didn’t fight back anymore, and when he gave a final three powerful pumps and the vile, uncomfortable thing in her mouth twitched, Vi couldn’t muster the energy for a reaction. The fluid left in her mouth was bitter and made her mouth water as if she were about to vomit, so she spat it on the floor in front of her and sank to the ground with a silent, gasping sob. Her lungs were burning and her jaw felt like it might never be able to close again without discomfort, and for once she did not look to her creator for comfort. Previously, he’d been perhaps a bit cruel but still supportive when she needed it, but now she knew how he really felt about her. She’d tricked herself into thinking she meant anything to him, and she vowed to herself then and there to never let anyone fool her like this again. Vi covered her face with her hands, curled into the fetal position, and listened as Ayo called her a stupid bitch and left her with one final humiliation; he stood before her with feet spread and pissed on her shuddering body, his face empty of emotion.

“Clean that up. Tomorrow, you’ll be getting that transmitter. I don’t care who you have to kill, fuck or whatever else. Come back without it and you’ll find that this was a comfortable day off for you. Don’t disappoint me again.”


	3. 3

Thanks to the help he’d received from that strange woman, Vi, they’d been able to successfully radio for evac and had mere hours to go until the vertibird would arrive. Danse meandered out onto the catwalk outside the police station, steeling himself for the sight of Knight Keane’s body. They’d been so busy trying to get Rhys patched up and keeping the place secure without the support of his comrades that the task of burying Keane had fallen to the end of the list. But now that the end of their mission was in sight, there was no more time left to put it off. Normally any soldiers fallen in battle would be returned to the Prydwen for cremation, but he knew that wouldn’t be what the Knight would have wanted. Keane was a good man, but a bit wild. He’d grown up in the wastes with nothing but what he could beg, borrow or steal to survive; while he had tamed down somewhat after joining up, he’d always retained the aura of a barely domesticated animal that was just looking for an opportunity to escape. Danse had trusted him, as flighty as he sometimes was, but he knew the man would have recoiled at the thought of being reduced to ashes and then tossed out the side of the airship. He was a salt of the earth type fellow and had often expressed his plans to move back out into the wastes after retirement to lead a similar life to what his parents had- roaming from place to place and sleeping under the stars. It seemed only fitting that he would find his final resting place under those same stars.

Danse leaned down and gathered the body into his arms, swallowing back bile at the sweet scent of early decay. It’d only been a little over a day, but things tended to rot quickly in the summer heat. The man made a note to wash down his power armor when they got back to the Prydwen, just in case any miscellaneous fluids made their escape from the corpse. It felt wrong to think of his friend in that way, as just a dead piece of meat that was going to leak on him, but he tried to remain pragmatic about it. If Keane were around to witness this, he’d be laughing at Danse having to haul a corpse around. He had a strange sense of humor, he remembered with some sadness. 

Luckily, the walk down to a suitable area was short and without much jostling. He chose a place with a few trees and set to work digging a hole near the base of one of the larger ones, just far enough away to not have to dig past any thick roots. 

Grave digging was arduous, hot work. His power armor’s hydraulic joints helped with most of the workload but he still poured sweat for the entire three hours of hard digging; he loved his armor, but it was positively maddening when a single droplet of sweat trickled down his back and there was no way to scratch the itch it left behind without getting out of the suit altogether. 

He’d left Haylen and Rhys alone at the police station with orders to make sure everything was packed up for when their evac arrived, but the commander in him worried about his underlings no matter how capable he knew them to be. Rhys was mostly recovered from his injuries sustained during the battle with the ghoul horde and so it was all but expected that he would be the muscle should anything happen, and that fact alone bothered Danse. Haylen was trained with a pistol but she was soft too, just the type to answer the door and say ‘sure!’ with a smile on her face if some poor wastelander came along asking for help. Rhys was the type to fill the same wastelander full of laser holes the second he caught sight of them, and neither extreme was something Danse wanted to leave alone for long.

As soon as Keane was buried and his dog tags were wrapped around a stick poking up from the freshly churned dirt, Danse spared no time in heading back. He was exhausted and ready for a bottle of water or five, and his babysitting instincts were beginning to scream about what kinds of things could have gone wrong while he was out of earshot. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, he didn’t recognize the brown ponytail that bobbed around as its owner looked back and forth between the equally disgruntled looking soldiers at the top of the steps leading to the police station. It clicked in his mind when he heard her voice, though. 

“I had hoped I would not return too late to catch you,” She said cooly, switching her gaze to Haylen when Rhys threatened to strike her dead with his eyes.

Haylen had her mouth open, about to speak, when her eyes flitted to Danse as he approached. “Sir, uh, she came back?” She sounded confused, but looked grateful to have a higher-up to pass the girl off onto. 

Vi spun on her heel to meet Danse’s eyes with her own cool blue ones, thick brows laying in a heavy straight line across her forehead. She looked different than when they’d first met, but he couldn’t be sure if it was just his imagination or not. 

“I had business to attend to at home, but I returned to request to join your cause,” She said, surprising everyone a little with her directness. 

“I’ll admit, I had planned to offer you a spot after our first mission together but you disappeared before I could. Soldiers aren’t allowed to just run away whenever it pleases them, you know.” 

Her expression didn’t change with her reply, “I wanted to say goodbye to my mother. She’s elderly. It’s possible I would never see her again.”

“I would have let you do so even if you had stayed.”

“I was unsure if you would, so I didn’t leave it to chance.” Her stillness unnerved him a bit, the way only her mouth moved when she spoke and her big glassy eyes didn’t seem to blink often enough. 

“I, uh...I suppose. Thanks to you, there’s a vertibird coming soon to take us back to the Prydwen. It seems only natural to offer you the opportunity to come along. I also can’t ignore your skill in battle.” He stumbled over his words a little, something that surprised him more than anyone. Rhys stole a quick glance at Haylen, eyebrows raised. Danse didn’t let it go unnoticed and it left him feeling somehow exposed.

“So I am being recruited then?”

“Affirmative. Uh, Rhys can show you where to put your things until evac arrives.”

Vi turned a dismissive glance over her shoulder at the beefy man behind her with a lick of her pink lips. “I’ll keep my items with me, thank you. How long until we leave?”

Danse furrowed his brow, but didn’t reprimand her. A quick look at his suit’s HUD told him the time, and that the vertibird was set to arrive in five hours. He told her as much and not a second later, the woman spun on her heel and made her way inside. The three soldiers stood outside after she was gone, looking at each other with slight bewilderment. They weren’t entirely sure what had just happened, only that another had joined their ranks...somewhat against their will? Such an attitude would never be tolerated either from an initiate or a fully fledged soldier, so the Knight and Scribe were left wondering why their commander had just...taken it. Danse reached back and rubbed his sweaty neck, standing in uncomfortable silence for a second before dismissing the pair on the steps and walking between them to follow Vi inside. Haylen and Rhys stayed where they were for a minute before doing the same.

“Never expected Danse to be the type to get pussy whipped,” Rhys said with the typical amount of unkindness in his voice. Haylen reprimanded him shrilly and took an unsuccessful swipe at his shoulder, but didn’t voice dissent at the opinion.


	4. 4

Vi flipped through the tracks on the old digital music player, annoyed. Surely more than the same ten songs had survived the war, but yet she was relegated to listening to just the same few over and over forever. She felt nauseous at the thought of hearing _bingo bango bongo I’m so happy in the Congo!_ in her ears one more time, not to speak of the rest of her options that sounded even less appealing. With as much exasperation she could use without disrupting the rest of the initiates, she threw the headphones and player under her bunk and rolled over in the blankets to try and sleep. Living on the Prydwen had been hard to adjust to after spending her entire, albeit short, life far underground in the solid core of the Institute. Everything creaked and groaned on this tub, including her bunk mates that seemed to sneak in a different girl every night. They seemed to at least try to be quiet, which was appreciated, but as she stared up at the bottom of the rickety bed above hers she was tempted to shove a boot knife in both the youngster’s ears to make them shut the hell up. Still, the sounds of passion were a little less monotonous than her musical options. She guessed. 

The little old fashioned alarm clock that sat on the tin floor next to her bed flicked over to 4:48am, the clicking noise of the mobile number cards barely audible over the ruckus. Vi sighed and realized she wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She spun quickly on her heel and fixed a cold glare at the boy that slept up top and his conquest of the night who was giggling in a tone that sounded like she thought she was being quiet. The duo froze, eyes wide and doelike for a second before the boy broke out in a grin, “Want to join us, baby?” His voice was hoarse and his mustache looked like he was struggling to grow more than five hairs at once.

Vi prickled, but she was willing to let it go. He was just trying to act tough for his girlfriend. She gently requested that they consider the sleep requirements of everyone around them from now on and then made to leave, perfectly happy in how she’d handled it. Not every situation needs murder and chaos, she reminded herself. Except, some situations did call for that.

“No need to be such a cunt,” He said under his breath as the girl scoffed and got her clothes gathered up from the corners of the bunk and slithered back into them. 

Much like a dog who’d had his tail yanked one too many times, Vi’s lip curled into a snarl. In a flash she was back at the bunk with an iron grip on the boy’s throat who subsequently knocked the woman out of her spot and onto the floor, drawing the complaints of a few recruits around them. He tried to splutter something but his airway was constricted too much to squawk too much. The blonde on the floor cursed loudly, then noticed what was happening with a gasp. She scurried around the side of the bed, still without a bra or shirt and only one boot, and made to claw at Vi who snatched her by the scalp without looking. Her programming had taken over, clouded her thoughts and vision and decision making. Just as the boy began to lose consciousness and the woman had begun to twist and scratch like a cat caught in a trap, she was shaken back to life by the sound of her voice being hollered from across the room. 

Her blood ran cold for a second and she released them both instantly, ignoring the desperate gasps for breath from her bunkmate and the angry name calling and threats from his girl. She turned robotically, metaphorical tail between her legs, and saluted sharply. “Paladin, sir.”

Danse stood in the doorway, silhouetted by a hallway light behind him, and she didn’t need to see his face to know she was in trouble. 

“Initiates Fleischman and Kaftan, don’t let me catch you like this again. And you, Vi, with me. Now.”

She glanced back at the pair who had all but forgotten their brush with death and were now worried about being tossed off one of the catwalks outside. They agreed quickly and apologized, but Danse ignored them. He remained staring at Vi, who shuffled into her boots and scooted out the door after him as he turned to leave.

“Assaulting your brothers and sisters is unacceptable, initiate. You’re lucky it was me who found you,” He said, not looking at her.

“I got no sleep because of those two, as well as every night for the past two weeks. Would you prefer I strangle them a little or get someone killed in the field because I can’t keep my eyes open?” It was a mostly genuine question. Danse glanced down at her as they walked and there was no approval in his eyes.

“From now on, bring these issues to me,” He said.

Vi rolled her eyes, “Sure, maybe after a week or so of neither of us getting any sleep you can help me gut them. Where are we going?” She stopped in front of the door to the flight deck as Danse held it open for her expectantly, one hand on her hip. 

“We get to go help play ambassador today. Another initiate I sponsored in just before you had uncovered the location of the Railroad and Elder Maxson has instructed me to take you down there to meet up with her to negotiate a truce for the time being. They hand over all their information on synths and the Institute and we don’t drop a bomb on them from the air. Everyone wins.”

“The Railroad?” She asked, moving ahead of him. He pointed her toward the vertibird they were to board, the rotors beginning to spin up.

“A group dedicated to rescuing synths that escape from the Institute and helping them integrate into society. A bunch of delusional bleeding hearts, to put it lightly.”

Vi’s heart leapt with nerves. She had no idea anything like that was even possible. She’d heard of synths never being recovered by the coursers sent after them, but it was assumed that they had either been destroyed or had wandered so far into the wastes as to never be seen again. But to have an organization so nearby that _helped_ them? The idea left her feeling shaken and desperately curious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drop off point for the vertibird wasn’t far from their destination thankfully, and while she had been so busy thinking about the Railroad that she’d forgotten to ask at all about this other recruit, it was obvious enough where the woman was from when they were dropped off. Her bright blue, god awful ugly vault suit was a bit snug on her plump body and it was easy to see that she wasn’t long out of the vault at all. She bounced on the balls of her feet up to the pair as they approached, all smiles and swinging blonde ponytail and fluttery eyelashes. 

“Hi, Paladin, sir! It’s uh, this way,” She said, apparently overcome with a disability that caused her to be unable to break eye contact with Danse. Vi narrowed her eyes at the woman and cocked her head a fraction, feeling slighted already. She _existed_ damn it!

Danse nodded, but didn’t smile back which Vi took note of, and suggested they get on their way. The idea seemed to blindside the vaultie at first, who giggled and hopped away on eager feet. Everything about this chick made Vi’s skin crawl, but she decided she’d been caught strangling people enough for one day.

The Railroad’s headquarters were apparently hidden in the catacombs beneath an old church which was, as the blue clad girl put it, totally cleared out of ghouls already because those things are like, way gross! Vi thought she might like, totally puke every time she heard her speak, but wasn’t entirely aware why she hated the woman so fiercely already. Annoying personalities were a dime a dozen, but something about this one in particular made her think violent thoughts. The trio ventured down some stone stairs and into a damp smelling cellar-like area that had a single hallway leading off the side with a single lantern hanging to light the way. Vaultie made sure to alert everyone that it was like, down that way, teehee.

“Oh gosh, I forgot to introduce myself to you, new girl! I’m Paula!” She chirped suddenly, startling everyone. Vi felt her hackles rising, _new girl_? Who the hell was she?

“I’m Vi. You haven’t been out of the vault long, have you?” She said, unmasked hostility creeping into her voice. Paula seemed surprised and stopped suddenly, turning around to look at her.

“Woah, how did you know that? Are you like, a mind reader or something?” 

Danse apparently finally sensed the unmitigated volatility seeping from Vi’s every pore because he chose that moment to urge the little group forward, making the excuse that introductions could be done later. Paula never seemed to realize that she was quite literally advertising her origins on her back, and after a few minutes of stewing over it Vi managed to find it slightly funny. Only slightly.

A few minutes more of walking had them standing outside a giant stone circle with multiple rings and a white chalk arrow pointing to one letter of some sort of inscription on the rings. Paula reached forward and moved one of them, then spun around to face Danse and Vi. 

“So, like, I was following the trail here and every so often there would be a stop with a message carved into the ground and one letter was circled in them and I like,” She paused to gasp in a breath as if she’d forgotten to inhale, “Figured out it spells ‘Railroad’! Super cool right? So, like-“

“Just...just do whatever you’re thinking.” Vi barked, growing more annoyed when Paula didn’t seem deterred. She just nodded happily and turned around to set to work on the rings.

Vi stole a bewildered look up at Danse while Paula worked, and he looked back down at her. His eyes held a warning as much as Vi’s held a threat, though not directed at him. 

A few minutes and misspellings of the world railroad later, the stone door seemed to suck in air before sliding to the side to reveal a pitch black room beyond that gushed with cool air smelling of a place long forgotten.

“Gosh, it’s like totally _Indiana Jones_ , right?”

Danse agreed, sounding confused. What the hell that was, Vi was unsure, but she knew better than to ask for an explanation. The Paladin quietly urged them to be silent as they stepped forward.

Mere feet into the inky room, flood lights flickered to life and blinded them all. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t have my people gun you down where you stand, Brotherhood.” A female voice spat, sounding like it made her tongue hurt just to say the words. Vi’s eyes hurried to adjust to the lights, but she was already sure this would be her last day alive if Paula decided to speak before anyone could stop her. She wouldn’t even blame these people for killing them on sight, if that were the case.


	5. 5

Vi liked Desdemona. She was pragmatic and organized, and smart as a whip. If the polar opposite of Paula existed, Des was it. She didn’t even mind having machine guns poked in their faces the very moment they arrived at the Railroad headquarters, if only for the fact that she took an immediate shine to their leader. 

“We’ve never cooperated with the Brotherhood before now, and we sure as shit don’t plan to start.” The redhead spat, eyes narrow. Danse had been quick to spit out their plans to form an alliance of sorts, or at least a symbiotic relationship in which the weaker of the two wouldn’t be mercilessly slaughtered. While some fighting was expected, Vi hoped she wouldn’t have to put these folks down like rabid dogs- they were an intriguing bunch. _Come on, just do it._ She chanted in her head. 

“Respectfully, ma’am, this isn’t a request,” Danse didn’t sound very respectful at all, she thought, “We have every intention to raze this place if you decide not to play ball. You people directly interfere with Brotherhood objectives by rescuing escaped synths, and as I see it we have a bit more firepower than you. You could mow all three of us down right now and all that would accomplish is to ensure your own demise. I encourage you to think before you make any decisions. We’re offering you guaranteed amnesty.”

A dark skinned woman with platinum hair thumbed the trigger on her mini gun, looking a bit too testy for Vi’s liking. 

“How do we know you won’t betray us?” Desdemona said. 

“We don’t, Des. But a little uncertainty is better than certain death, isn’t it?” Said a man with coiffed black hair and sunglasses. Vi idly wondered what kind of person would wear sunglasses _underground_ , but didn’t openly question it. 

“The Brotherhood doesn’t break promises. Hand over all your synth related research, sign a contract stating you’ll cease all operations having to do with their rescue and you’ll go free. Very simple.” Danse said, sounding a little impatient. 

The entire group of them looked to be varying stages of angry, sad and sick to their stomach, but Desdemona finally nodded after some time. Vi exhaled, feeling her shoulders slacken a bit. 

“Excellent. A representative will arrive in the coming days to finalize things, as well as a team of scribes to collect your data logs.”

“Just get out of my sight before I change my mind,” The woman said, anger turning her words to ash in Vi’s ears. She wished she could stay behind and chat with these people alone, but knew better than to ask. Her eyes flicked to the strange looking fellow with the tall hair as they turned to leave, just in time to see him lower his glasses and give her a wink. Somehow, she knew what it meant. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Requesting personal leave, sir. Family issues.” 

Maxson eyed her over a stack of papers he was working through signing, “You’ve never mentioned family before, soldier. I didn’t think you even had anyone.”

“I prefer to keep personal life separate from work, sir.” 

He seemed pleased for a second before his scarred face adopted its usual blank stare, “Leave granted, be back in five days for your next assignment.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’d had the vertibird pilot drop her off near Goodneighbor so she could walk to her destination without arousing any suspicion. She’d only been to the town once before on a retrieval mission, and it had left somewhat of a sour taste on her tongue. Any town that allowed stabbings and robberies in the streets wasn’t a place she cared for, even though she could easily fight off an attacker. For every person who was strong enough to not be taken advantage of, there were ten who would swallow their teeth for trying. Preying on the weak wasn’t something she could abide. 

The walk from town to the old church wasn’t terribly long, though it was riddled with super mutants and ghouls that needed executing and that slowed her down a little bit. By the end of her trip, a walk that should have taken an hour or two at most ended up turning out to be an all afternoon affair. When she turned up outside the Railroad’s headquarters, the thought occurred to her that she would need to find lodging nearby and Goodneighbor was going to be her only option. That issue would need to wait, however, and she pushed it away as she ventured inside. Hopefully the group wouldn’t have totally vilified her. 

“I was hoping you’d show up.”

The voice made her nearly jump out of her skin, but a second later she recognized it to be the man from before. He materialized out of a shadow some ways away from the front door with the same smirk plastered on his pale face she’d remembered seeing upon their first encounter.

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, gaping like a fish who’d been flung from the water onto shore. In an unusual slip up, Vi wasn’t sure what to say.

“Please, I know I’m beautiful but there’s no need to be star struck,” He said, striding forward lazily. “Really though, I know what you are. _Who_ you are, actually. Infiltrating the Brotherhood? That’s slick.” He grinned, pushing his glasses up on top of his head. She noticed that his hair was gone today, shaved down to a prickly black crop that was similar to some of the other soldiers she’d seen. 

Still, no words sprang to mind. Her heart raced fast enough to make up for the short circuit her vocal chords seemed to be having, though. _It’s a trap._ Her mind screamed. Blue eyes darted around for an escape route; she’d go through the wall if she had to. He seemed to recognize the fear leaking from her pores and raised a hand.

“Relax, man. It ain’t like that. It’s just...I’m confused. What’s a courser doing playing soldier with the enemy? I know you ain’t been reconfigured cause we haven’t processed any coursers...um, ever. Mind filling me in?”

“I-I’m being...punished. Sort of. I was supposed to retrieve some tech for my master but I...I failed. I let Danse- um, the man you saw before, take it. I’ve been ordered to fetch it.” It all poured out like vomit, and her hands shook as the memory of that night in Ayo’s office replayed in her head. 

“That don’t add up though. Coursers don’t _do_ that kind of fetch. I’ve seen you in Goodneighbor, stealing back one of ours. Why suddenly do you have to go get some measly bit of tech? And why tell me this anyway?”

“I’m...experimental. You may notice that I have a female body, and that most coursers are male. I am not part of the regular retrieval teams. I answer to a specific man, the one who was in charge of my creation. As for why I’m telling you this, I think you know the answer to that. The same reason I lied to get leave and sneak back here alone. I want you to help me.”

It was then that she noticed the air shimmering in the far corners of the room, and then the shapes of people coming into view. _Stealth Boys_. A smile spread across her face as she looked back down to the shorter man, and he returned it. “Didn’t think I’d come without a little insurance policy did you? Besides, Glory and Des wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Des’ name she knew from before, but Glory she did not. The blonde haired woman strode forward, grinning, but conspicuously missing her enormous mini gun. There was a certain kind of meanness behind that smile, but it was a little less unsettling than she’d looked upon their first meeting.

“I didn’t believe Deacon when he said you were a _courser_ , but looks like I shouldn’t have doubted him.” Desdemona looked eager, while Glory looked less so. 

‘I shall never tell a lie, Des. Anyway, what do ya say? Think we should do it? She _is_ working for both of our enemies after all.”

Glory ignored the both of them, “How many synths have you dragged back to that place?” Her grin was gone. Vi swallowed.

“N-not many. Fifteen or so?” 

The other woman scoffed, shaking her head. Vi felt the need to placate her for some reason.

“I was only doing my job. It’s not like I could say no. I...I don’t want to go back there. And think of all the data you could get from me. It’s all yours if you want it. Please.” Her tone was growing desperate, her throat felt like it might swell shut. “I’m due to report back soon. If I don’t, they’ll track me.”

“It doesn’t matter how much data we’d have, your Brotherhood pals will be stealing it all in a day or two.” Des said, cocking a hip.

“I’ll...I’ll make you copies of all of it. Right now.” She fished around in her pack and removed a bundle of memory disks, enough to download every book, scroll and sneaky note passed by kids in a classroom that existed. She’d anticipated this. Desdemona looked pleased, Deacon and Glory were unreadable. 

“Better than nothing.”


	6. 6

As it turns out, the Railroad didn't feel comfortable using their own doctors to perform Vi’s surgery. Instead, she was sent to Goodneighbor to visit the most skilled brain surgeon they knew of, Amari. Deacon volunteered to accompany her, and neither Glory nor Des protested. Vi was adamant about getting it done as soon as possible, before Ayo realized she wasn't planning on returning and sent a reclamation team after her, and so they set off to the nearby town right after settling the terms of their agreement. All data recovered from Vi’s memory banks was to be turned over to the group and she would create copies of all existing data before the Brotherhood took it. She was glad to do it, if a little guilty about so openly betraying them. The Brotherhood’s values didn’t exactly match her own, but she had grown to hold a kind of affection for the lot of them anyway. She didn't think of what Danse would say if he knew. She didn’t often see him look disappointed with her, but it made her heart thump painfully the few times she did. 

“Not to sound overeager, but mind telling me something?” Deacon said, peering at her from the corners of his eyes as they walked. He always looked a little sneaky, she noticed. When she didn’t reply, he took that as assent.

“How, exactly, do you get into the Institute? Where is it?”

Her eyes kept scanning the area as they moved, footsteps echoing noisily off the carcasses of old buildings that stood like gravestones around them. “Teleportation. Under the CIT ruins.” 

Deacon scoffed and sounded like he was about to argue, but the words died on his tongue when he noticed she wasn’t smiling. His eyebrows crept up his forehead, as if to say, _and_? 

“Only coursers have the chip needed for it in them. And a few of the higher up members, of course. I assume that will also be removed during my procedure. Should you desire, I bet you could figure out a way to reactivate it even after it’s been taken out.”

“I’ll make a note of that. Why do you want to do this? The coursers I’ve seen are...a bit dull. And stupid loyal. Like dogs, almost. Why aren’t you?”

“Like I said, I’m experimental. The idea was raised that coursers were...just as you said. Excellent in combat but not for blending in. I was supposed to be the first of the next generation of them. The same strength but a little more, uh, natural?” It felt strange to be talking about herself.

“You didn’t answer the rest of my question.”

Vi paused and chewed her bottom lip, peeling off a bit of chapped skin and letting her mind focus on the pain. 

“My creator, Dr. Ayo. He’s most of the reason I don’t want to go back. I’ve also had to partake in reclamation duties, as you know. As you’ve _seen_ , apparently. I-I don’t like it. I was programmed to act and feel human, and so were the rest of the synths in operation. You can’t make something sentient and expect it to act like an object,” Her speech was quickening, tears prickled her eyes and her throat felt sore and hoarse, “It’s just sadistic, isn’t it? If they wanted regular slaves to mindlessly do as they were told they could have done that and no one would care. But, but, they’ve given us minds and feelings and then they treat us like...like tools!” 

Deacon made a motion with his hands like pumping the brakes on a car, “Easy, man. We can change the subject. We’re almost there anyway. We’ll get you fixed up, don’t worry.”

“I can’t wait to kill him.” She said, voice low. Deacon didn’t respond, but there was an air of discomfort between them. He was regretting having asked her anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doctor Amari was waiting for them in the back of the Memory Den, looking a little uneasy. It didn’t inspire confidence in Vi’s heart for the viability of it all, but she tried not to worry. 

“Look at you, a real live courser. Somehow I expected you to look different.” The older woman said in her strange accent, a pained smile tugging at the corners of her glossy lips. Vi returned the look.

“So, I can tell you a bit about the process if it would ease your nerves, or…”

“No, please, I think I’d rather not know. Ignorance is bliss and all that.” The idea of someone carving into her skull and scooping out the unsavory bits was plenty to churn her stomach. “Could you just tell me...will I be the same? After you’re done, will I remember who I am?”

Amari’s face was unreadable, “If all goes well, yes. I won’t lie that this is an easy surgery. Normally for regular synth reconfiguration the Railroad just does this bit in-house, but I’m reckoning you’ll be a bit more complicated. I’m going to do my best to keep everything just as it should be. Of course, your memories will be a bit hazy for a few days afterward but that’s mostly due to the pain medication. Please try not to worry.”

“You realize that sounds silly, right? Telling me not to worry?” She tried to sound joking, but it came out a little more wobbly than she would have liked. 

“Yes, unfortunately. In any case, I think it’s best that we get this done as soon as possible, correct? I’ve got a little makeshift operating room set up just in the corner here, I’m going to go get scrubbed up and you make yourself comfortable. There’s a gown there for you to put on as well. Deacon?” Amari fixed a pointed stare at the man, still conspicuously wearing sunglasses, and he took his cue to leave.

“I’ll be waiting out in one of the memory loungers, kid. Good luck.”

Vi turned to watch him leave, feeling more alone than she could remember ever feeling. 

The room was rather dusty looking, with shelves lining the walls that contained medical supplies and books of all sorts, along with a wall of computers toward the back and the operating room Amari had mentioned just to the right of that. A dirty looking gurney, some machines she didn’t recognize, an array of scalpels that made her nervous to look at. 

She scuffed her boot on the ragged red carpet that stretched wall to wall save for a few patches where it was worn away, then meandered over to strip and put on the paper gown. It seemed rather old and a bit more brittle than it should be, and she had to hold the edges closed around her bottom to climb onto the bed. Her heart thumped fearfully in her chest and a thrill of nerves shot up her back when she saw Amari return from a small bathroom and sleeping area that stood just off to the side of the main room they were in, “Ready?” 

She wasn’t, but she nodded yes anyways. After hooking up the heart monitor and a few other devices she didn’t recognize, Amari inserted a needle into one of the big blue veins on Vi’s arm and injected her with a sedative. The synth slipped almost instantly into a dreamless, heavy sleep.


	7. 7

It felt like she had blinked her eyes and the procedure was over, but Amari insisted it had taken several hours. “Quite a bit of tech in there to remove!” The middle aged doctor had said, looking as puffed up as a pigeon on a cold day. The stimpacks were making her feel feverish and drowsy, though there was no pain at all. A bit of a chill on her shaved head, of course, but nothing more. 

“How long until...I’m cool?” She mumbled, eyes swimming and drooping. There seemed to be several Amaris and Deacons standing next to her bed, but she didn’t think that seemed quite right. Deacon snorted.

“Luckily for you, coursers heal quicker than most. You’ll be fine in a day or two.” 

For the moment, her attention span was almost nonexistent. She reached a pale hand upward to glance across the staples in her scalp. It felt like someone else’s skin, thick and rubbery and hot. “Where’s’m’hair?” 

“It will grow back. You should sleep now, you’ll feel better when you wake up.” Amari didn’t give her time to reply before bending and injecting her arm again, a thick warmth spread up her arm and lulled her instantly to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In just one more blink, four days had passed and Vi was more thirsty than she had ever been. Water was the first thing she asked for upon waking. Amari was quick to bring her a bottle of the unfiltered stuff, which she downed in three gulps and spat back up after accidentally swallowing the filth that tended to collect near the bottom. 

“Hello, sleepyhead. Sit up slowly or you’ll-“ 

Vi did not sit up slowly, but she also fell backwards quickly and grunted into her pillow when the blood rushed away from her head. 

“Fall over. How are you feeling?”

Truth be told, she felt wonderful for just having had her head cut open. A quick brush of the scalp showed that the staples were already gone. Aside from a dry mouth, crusty eyes and a hunger to end all hunger, she was perfectly peachy. Words seemed to fail her, so she grunted a quiet _mhmm_ instead, rubbing her face vigorously. Gods, she needed a bath. 

“You’ll have a small scar, but unfortunately that’s a bit unavoidable. Your hair will cover it soon enough,” Amari said, “Deacon tells me you have to be somewhere today, so please take a few hours to come around and you should be alright to leave. If you experience any headaches, confusion, anything out of the ordinary, please come back immediately. I would stay with you for a bit but I’ve also got prior engagements, so regretfully I need to leave now. I trust you’ll be okay on your own?”

Vi nodded, cradling her head in her hands as she refocused her eyes. There was a sense of urgency to get back to her obligations on the Prydwen, but it was muddied and floating around in the back of her thoughts like a fallen leaf in a puddle. Amari patted her on the shoulder, indicated where a supply of stimpacks could be found if she needed them, and clip-clopped up the stairs and out of the room in her kitten heels. Vi watched her go, admiring the shoes. Her dusty combat boots sat in a puddle of leather at the foot of the bed, laces askew and tangled. She was still wearing the paper gown, or maybe it had been swapped for an identical one at some point, but it left her feeling a bit exposed compared to the buttoned-up outfit she normally went for. Her legs felt a little too much like wet noodles to go fetch her own clothes yet, so she just sat on the edge of the bed and stared at them at they festered in their own pile next to the boots. The coat of dust on them was visible even from where she was sitting, and she dreaded having to wrestle back into the sweat stained garments. With some amusement she wondered if they might be so stiff from grime that they’d crackle when she tried to wrestle them from their current formation, but when she reached down with her foot and nabbed the shirt between her toes it did no such thing. 

In a bit of a daze, she struggled back into her outfit, a basic set of Brotherhood fatigues, and gathered up the pile of stimpacks Amari had left her. She hadn’t technically said they were free for the taking, but she hadn’t said that they weren’t either. 

When she finally bumbled out of the little basement workshop and back to the front room where the memory loungers were kept, she was surprised to see that one was occupied by Deacon. He still had his sunglasses and short cropped hair, she noted, and then wondered if he had been there for the whole time. As if on cue, the machine beeped alarmingly and the clear glass hatch opened with a hiss, revealing Deacon like the contents of a strange Faberge egg. He sat up, smiling brightly and looking refreshed. 

“What do you do in there?” She slurred. He barked a short laugh and stood, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I relive previous conquests. Let’s go get you a bowl of noodles to sober up. I told Amari not to use so much Med-X, but does she listen?”

He guided her by the shoulder outside into the early morning light where she sucked in her first breath of fresh, cool air as a free woman. “S’nice ousside.” She cooed, looking up at the watercolor palette of blues and pinks strewn across the sky. Deacon nodded, smirking. 

“You’re more fun high, dude. You should think about developing a habit. Not Psycho though, stuff’s harsh.”

“Can I have an egg in my noodles?” She said, mind flitting away from the previous subject. The smells of the first batches of ramen of the day were wafting toward them from the little commerce area at the entrance to town and a nice boiled egg floating in salty broth sounded like it might just right all the wrongs in the whole world right about then. 

“As if there’s any other way to eat it.”

And so eggs in their noodles they had, with Vi eventually eating half of Deacon’s without asking. He didn’t complain when she reached over with her fork, speared the boiled egg and bit off half of it, just let out a groan of mock disappointment that she didn’t even halfway buy. 

The noodles did a lot to clear her mind fog, though as the sleepiness went away it was replaced with a giddy energy that left her fidgeting in her seat toward the end of their meal. 

“Did your people get all their stuff copied, Deacon? And what about all the data from,” She made a motion toward her shaved head, now matching his, “Up here? Did it help?”

Deacon made a face, “Yeah, we totally got copies of everything. You had so much cool shit in your noggin we had to find extra storage disks to fit all of it, too. We’re still going through it all at HQ, so I can’t really comment on what all was in there. Just sucks though, cause when your beloved Brotherhood scribes came along a few days ago they managed to get a copy of what we got from you. Looks like someone didn’t delete the base folder that the original was located in, so they snapped it right up. I imagine you’ll be hearing all about it when you get back.” He sounded bitter now, scraping the bottom of his chipped porcelain bowl with the fork. 

“Oh...I’m real sorry,” She didn’t know what else to say, but found herself staring at Deacon’s profile. His long, straight nose looked rather regal, she thought. Like a photo of a prewar statue she’d seen once.

“Yeah, not your fault though. We messed up. Anyway, you probably got stuff to do. Feelin’ good enough to go?” He was out of his chair before she replied, tugging the bottom of his white t-shirt down over his jeans after loosening the belt a notch. She watched his hands move, heart thrumming in her chest.

“Um, I feel like I could run until my heart explodes. Like, my whole body is vibrating. Is that the Med-X too?” 

Deacon grinned, “Yeah man. That’s the comedown. Nice, huh? Knocks you out for a good nap and then it’s even nice enough to wake you up again.”

“Yeah. I kind of want some more.” She said, thinking of the stimpacks in her bag. They only made her feel hot and queasy and slow, never anything like this. Vi’s eyes flitted around quickly, blood pulsing in her ears. Standing still and talking was making her fidgety.

“Hey now, I was joking about getting the habit. You be careful with that stuff. I’ll be seeing you around, hey? If I catch you being some strung out junkie somewhere I’ll-“ 

The kiss caught him mid-sentence, her chapped lips tentative on his at first until both of their instincts kicked in. Hands on either side of his neck, eyes shut tightly, she did her best to mimic the kisses she’d seen between wastelanders before. It only took a split second before the forced, still kiss became more fevered and desperate. Tongues brushed against each other and his hands squeezed hard on her hips, cutting into the flesh almost painfully. It drove her onward, an encouragement of sorts, until he pulled away painting. 

“Vi, you’re high as a kite. Go sober up somewhere and we’ll revisit this.” His voice had become hoarse and dry in the handful of seconds the embrace had lasted, but his hands lingered on her wide, soft hips for a moment too long. 

Her face felt like the surface of the sun as she pulled away and the synth wasn’t sure why she had just done that. She stammered to explain herself, but couldn’t.

“Um, uh, thank you. For helping me. I’ll see you. Good luck with um, everything.” With that, she spun on her heel and speed walked as nonchalantly as possible out the door to Goodneighbor and into the destroyed city beyond. Somehow, mutants and ghouls were preferable to facing that man right now. She rubbed her face vigorously to get the scene out of her head, and as she broke into a jog to the predestined pickup point she and the vertibird pilot had settled on a week before, she realized she had forgotten to put on her bra when leaving the Memory Den. She could have cried as she wrapped her jacket around her torso and used one arm to support her breasts as she ran. Bras were so hard to find these days, and it’s not as if she could just requisition one at home anymore.


	8. 8

Vi and the pilot chatted over their headsets during the ride back to the airship, and he caught her up on the goings on around the Prydwen. He didn’t even notice that she was missing all her hair, or if he had he didn’t say anything and for that she was grateful. He tended to keep his small, squinted eyes trained straight ahead most of the time anyway so there was a chance he hadn’t ever really given her a good look. 

“So apparently that weird vaultie chick figured out a way to get into the Institute,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, not looking away from the controls. His voice was harsh and crackly over the headset she wore, but it still made her heart skip a beat.

“Really? How?”

“Well word on the street is that you gotta teleport into the place. Ain’t that some shit? Anyway, she and one of the Paladins, that weird one that don’t talk much, you know the one I mean, they went off to catch a freakin’ courser! I’m not shitting you either. I say it’s a suicide mission but hey, Maxson wants what he wants. I guess the coursers got this chip or whatever that lets em poof in and out of the place.” The man’s thick Boston accent was heavier when he got riled up, and at this point it was hard to understand him. Vi couldn’t help but giggle at it, but that was before she absorbed all the information. 

“Danse, you mean? Her and him are out there together?” She said, not sure why she was feeling so angry all of a sudden. Jealousy was not an emotion she’d ever experienced, and this anger was different than what she was used to. It was somehow tinted green and sickly when she thought about it. 

“That’s what I said! Seems like it should take more than two folks to kill one of them bastards but hey, they didn’t put me in charge.” He glanced back at her for what she thought was the first time, “I figure they should be back anytime, unless they uh, ya know.” He made a _krrck!_ sound and drew his finger across his throat. She furrowed her brows at this; Paula could drop dead anytime, but her fingers itched when she thought about the Paladin out there with that incompetent little snot. 

The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence, wind buffeting the pair of them as it spun off the chopper blades and into the open air cabin. Normally she’d be fighting her long, brown ponytail out of her face on a ride like this but the absence of hair was proving more and more pleasant. She still missed it, though. The naked mole rat look was comfortable, but not so aesthetically pleasing. Vi was worried the others might notice her sudden shearing though, and made a note to find a hat of some sorts until it grew out enough to cover the scars better. They were too straight and perfect to be passed off as a previous injury. 

“Here we are, kiddo. Home sweet home.” 

He maneuvered them expertly into an empty hangar, powering down the blades when the vertibird was properly docked and cracking his fingers with a smug smile, “Ain’t nothin’ better than the sound of gettin’ the hell back home, huh?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maxson eyed Vi warily, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “Err, mind explaining?” 

She knew better than to play dumb, “Bloatflies got me. I couldn’t get all the...stuff out, so I just shaved it off,” Before he had time to think about that excuse she moved on to the real topic at hand, “I’ve heard something about Danse and Paula going out alone to kill a courser, is that true?”

It was the right thing to say. Maxson’s expression turned proud and he stroked his beard in the way that he did when he couldn’t wait to tell you something. Vi watched his gnarled hand twist around the thick black hair, trying to think of other things. She’d found him attractive instantly upon meeting him those months ago, but sometimes it was harder to be professional than others. When she got to watching his hands was one of those times.

“Paula has been a real asset to the Brotherhood. She’s done more in a few weeks than most of us have gotten done since we arrived here! She actually ventured through the Glowing Sea to find out how to get into the Institute. Can you believe they use _teleportation_? It’s amazing. Anyway, they’ve gone to kill a courser to retrieve the tech needed to tap into the correct radio waves. Once they do that, we’re pretty much home free.” He sounded positively giddy, and he talked about Paula like he’d gotten to meet his childhood hero or something and it was everything he’d hoped it to be. A part of Vi wanted to tease him about it, but she didn’t think it wise to bring the attention back to herself. 

“When will they be back? Have you heard from them?” She had to make a conscious effort to say _them_ instead of _him_. He folded his fingers into a pyramid shape atop the paper-strewn desk and peered up at her through thick eyebrows, sending a thrill from her lower spine to her toes. He was a little bit boring and too businesslike for her, but damn if she didn’t like looking at him. 

“I have an ETA of fifteen minutes, but that was about, uh, nine minutes ago. Best head out there if you want to greet them.” 

Vi grinned widely for the first time perhaps ever, and he dismissed her without her having to ask. Maxson was at least good that way, he knew when to let you leave. Some people in high positions would keep you trapped there to chatter away for hours just because it would put your job in jeopardy to try and leave. She thanked him and turned to leave, only to be interrupted just as her hand touched the door knob.

“Vi?” 

“Yes, sir?”

“Come back and see me sometime.” He said, but when she turned to look at him he was already back to signing stacks of papers from one pile and transferring them to another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maxson’s ETA was right on track. There was a vertibird docking just as she burst through the doors to the flight deck and she could already see Paula’s pretty blonde hair whipping around in the wind, one hair unsuccessfully trying to hold down a large chunk of it.

Vi jogged to the catwalk that branched off to where they were landing and waited at the end of it for them, eyes scanning boredom over Paula’s plump form when she trundled out the side of the craft and landing straight on Danse when he followed. Her smile faltered a little when she saw the tired, almost unhappy look on his face. He usually kept a rather neutral facade but rarely had she ever seen him look so sour. Her mind flitted to the vaultie, wondering what she had done to him to piss him off. 

“Oh my god, Vi!” A shrill voice nearly screamed, sending her head spinning as a bear hug sent the rest of her body into a tailspin of its own. She only just stayed on her feet, arms instinctively flying to wrap around the other person and getting caught in a tangle of blonde hair in the process.

“Oh my god, Paula.” Her voice was dull and a little shocked as she stood, trapped, peering over the girl’s shoulder into Danse’s eyes. She thought she detected a hint of amusement from him, but the death glare she sent back was enough to quell that quickly. 

“I have like, so much to tell you about later. I just have to go tell Arthur about me and Danse’s mission and then we should totally meet up in the mess hall so I can fill you in.” Despite the bile that rose in Vi’s throat at the idea of spending an entire moment alone with this woman, she was interested in hearing from the horse’s mouth how things had gone. Paula seemed in good spirits, which was nothing new, but it led her to believe that they’d at least gotten the job done. 

“S-sure. I can’t wait.”

Danse brushed past the pair, who were still tangled in a hug that was growing evermore uncomfortable. His bulky armor made the squeeze difficult, but he didn’t seem to mind knocking into them. 

“I’ll be in my bunk. If Maxson asks, tell him I’ve gone to sleep off airsickness.”

Paula giggled sweetly, pulling away from Vi. “Maybe I’ll see you there!”

Vi’s blood somehow ran boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time. “Why will you see him in his bunk?” She whispered when Danse was out of earshot, trying to keep her voice somewhat friendly and curious. She worried she already knew.

“I don’t want to like, spoil part of the surprise but...I just can’t take it! We like, totally, _did it_. Can you believe that?” Paula could barely contain herself, and neither could Vi although for an entirely different reason. 

“No, I definitely didn’t see that coming.” Vi droned, voice monotone as she stared into Paula’s big blue saucer eyes. She watched as the woman wiggled and bounced off toward Maxson’s office, and she couldn’t deny that there was plenty to be attracted to. At least on the outside. Her soft, prewar body was beautiful in a different way than hers. Paula was all soft edges, with her round bottom and large breasts and cute upturned nose and fluttery eyelashes. Vi was no competitive weight lifter, but she was muscular anyway despite being modeled after a model that Ayo had liked to keep magazine clippings of from before the war. She had wide hips and a flat chest, with muscular arms and legs and now a shaved head. While she had no deformities or horrendously ugly features, she supposed she might just not be Danse’s type. 

She wanted to bolt after Danse, get his side of the story and somehow prove Paula a liar. They hadn’t had sex, she told herself. The blonde just knew how Vi felt and was trying to drive her off for some reason. But she didn’t think Paula had it in her to lie, and she didn’t go after Danse. She went to her own bunk instead and took a nap in her clothes, feeling a bit sorry for herself.


	9. 9

It felt like Danse was avoiding her, but maybe that was the disappointment clouding her mind more than anything. She couldn’t truthfully say that she wasn’t avoiding him at least a little bit either, but in that respect she felt justified. Paula didn’t tend to hang around the Prydwen for long stretches, at least, citing a fear of heights every time she departed the ship, and that was some consolation. Watching her flounce around the ship in her vault suit, which she was still allowed to wear instead of the standard Brotherhood fatigues for some reason, was enough to set Vi’s teeth on edge. Every once in awhile the thought would cross her that she was being unfair to the woman, having never given any indication herself that she was interested in Danse, but her anger quickly stubbed out that line of thought as soon as it began.

Another matter weighed heavily on her mind as well, and that was Maxson’s parting words to her on that fateful morning. She’d turned it over and over in her head during a few sleepless nights, and still wasn’t sure of his intentions behind it. Thankfully her bunk mates had been quiet so far, which allowed for better thinking, but alas it was of no help. Vi wondered why she was feeling nervous about the prospect of meeting Arthur again at his request. For all she knew, he just wanted to go over a new assignment with her. Perhaps it was important and he wanted to be sure she got all the details correct. Now _that_ was something Vi could sink her teeth into. Suddenly she was feeling quite important, thinking of the interesting missions she could be sent on. That was something Paula hadn’t gotten yet, she thought smugly. 

Feeling energized, she rolled out of bed and dug around under the covers for her bandanna that’d been lost in the night. Her head was showing the first signs of a dark brown stubble, but it still was a bit too thin to cover the scars well. 

It was early enough that the ship was still mostly still, only staffed by the barebones night crew, but she knew Maxson would be awake. It seemed like he never really slept, no matter what time of day or night he could be seen about the ship or heart pacing around in his quarters. It made the girl tired to think about; she quite liked sleep. Although now, despite the early hour, her heart was racing with excitement at the prospect of having something to do and all thoughts of her slumber were gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lights were on behind Maxson’s closed door, though no sound could be heard. She thought of knocking but then remembered that he had been the one to invite her here, and instead chose to just try the handle. It wasn’t locked.

“Ah, hello?” She said gently before actually stepping through the threshold. Once she peeked around the door, she found Maxson to be at his usual spot behind his desk with stacks of papers and books and maps all around, though he looked a little more weary than she could remember seeing him. With a start, she noticed something else. He had no shirt.

A thick black crop of hair grew all across his torso with no rhyme or reason to its pattern, stopping just short of his collarbone and traveling all the way down his belly. At least she assumed it did, since the lower half of him was hidden. For being half naked, he didn’t seem surprised to have been barged in on at all. Instead of any exclamation of shock or horror or a reprimand to get the hell out, he just flicked his eyes upward to meet hers. Straight faced, serious looking and with dark bags under his eyes, but otherwise without emotion.

“S-sorry. I can come back another time,” She said, cheeks and neck flushing hotly. Vi had no real reference for this kind of thing, but she felt as if she should be embarrassed _for_ him, if he wasn’t inclined to feel that way himself. 

“No, please. I’m glad you decided to come,” He said, drawing out his words as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say them, “I won’t waste your time, Vi. I wanted to ask you, uh, on a date.” He still held his pen in one hand, still sat in his same spot, still looked noncommittal. Vi’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish and she felt the blush creep up her face and onto her scalp, though the dusty green bandana covered it.

She tried to find an answer for him, but her tongue didn’t seem to be connected to her brain anymore. 

“Truthfully, I had thought that you and the Paladin were, uh, involved. So I was surprised to hear otherwise. And pleased, mind you. I’ve been wanting to get to know you since you arrived on this ship and I had hoped now was my opportunity. I apologize if this is unwanted, and if you are not interested I assure you there will be no retaliation on my part.” 

He was waiting for her to say something, but she felt a little sick to her stomach. Hadn’t this been what she wanted? In some way, yes. But it still felt a little bit like a betrayal to Danse. In fact, the more she framed it that way the more she grew to like the idea. Being vengeful was normally too much work to be worth the reward, but this time it felt...good. She didn’t feel good _about_ it, but it felt good when the smile crept across her face and she nodded at her superior.

“Where would you like to go?”


	10. 10

Vi had no clothes suitable for a date, so she opted to just wear her usual drab army green uniform and combat boots. She had made sure to take extra care during her shower earlier to get rid of the dirt under her nails and behind her ears, and as she sat on her bunk in silence waiting for Maxson to retrieve her like he said he would, she flipped through an old comic. It was tattered and fragile and some pages were missing, but the plot seemed to revolve around an alien race coming to Earth and stealing the bodies of humans to take their places. It felt a little ironic, what with how the Commonwealth was constantly abuzz with fear about that very thing. 

She heard footsteps approaching and sat her book down, a smile creeping across her face. Vi had been unsure about the date at first but the more she thought about it, the more she grew to like the idea. 

“Did you know?” Maxson appeared in the doorway, face twisted in anger. She balked.

“Know what?”

“About Danse!” He punched a fist into his open palm and she flinched, then slowly shook her head in confusion.

“I find it hard to believe that you two, being as close as you were, never discussed the fact that he is a fucking synth,”

Vi’s heart somehow stopped, jumped and did a barrel roll all at the same time. That didn’t make any sense. 

“I-I don’t understand,”

“The scribes just found a perfect DNA match for him in the archives we got from the Railroad. He’s a fucking synth. A traitor,” he spat, “And then he has the nerve to _run_? I’ve already sent Paula after him. This needs to be dealt with, Vi. I need you to go after her in case he puts up a fight.”

She was instantly on her feet, stomach roiling. In case he puts up a fight? What the fuck did that mean?

“You can’t mean-“

“I realize what an asset he has been, but we cannot go soft now. He is the enemy, like it or not. I want you to put aside whatever feelings you may have for him and follow orders. Paladin Danse must be the example, not the exception,”

She lowered her brows and stared at Maxson for a second, anger bubbling up inside her. For a second she had allowed herself to become infatuated with him, and that’d made her forget just who he was, the leader of a group that was against her very existence. It had gone far enough. It was time for the fantasy to end; Vi was not and never would be a Brotherhood soldier, not really.

“I’ll see to it that...that justice is served. Do we have coordinates?”

Maxson looked pleased as he pointed out the spot on the map that Danse had been suspected to be hiding at. Listening Post Bravo, some little prewar bunker out in the wastes that she had never heard of. She briefly wondered why he had chosen that place before taking her leave from Maxson, no longer seeing him with rose colored lenses. He may have been attractive, but his ideals made her stomach roil in disgust when she gave him a final glance as she walked past him to board a vertibird. For the very last time, she realized. Something in her wanted to stop and take it all in for a second so she wouldn’t forget what the Prydwen looked like, with all its creaking metal panels and the constant hum of the engines, but this wasn’t home if she really thought about it. Where home actually was, she wasn’t sure, but this den of hatred wasn’t something that deserved remembering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had time to work herself into a near frenzy during the time it took to follow the map to the listening post. Tears dried on her cheeks hours ago and her eyes were red and sore, but also forever scanning for Paula’s tiny footprints. She wondered if the bitch actually planned to kill Danse. Knowing her doglike loyalty to whoever was higher in rank than her, Vi thought she knew the answer. 

Bravo was a tiny, nondescript stone building set into the side of a hill and well out of sight. It had an empty doorway, positively cluttered with debris and a plethora of fresh footprints, and further back a terminal that led to a locked door. A familiar blue shape stood in front of the computer with a hip cocked and, presumably, a stupid look on her face.

“Paula?” Vi said, carefully picking through the mess. Paula spun to face her and looked relieved.

“Thank goodness you finally showed up. I’m like, not so great with these computers,”

Vi was taken aback, how could she be so nonchalant? 

“Y-yeah. You don’t actually plan to...do what Maxson wants, do you? I mean, he’s our friend. And I thought you guys…”

Paula smacked on a piece of bubblegum, looking annoyed for possibly the first time ever.

“Uh, duh? He’s a synth, dummy. One of the bad guys? You know, I should have totally seen this coming. It makes sense now why he was so weird all the time,”

“I thought you guys were together, he must not have been too weird,” Vi said.

“Not really. I mean, I tried to come onto him but he totally wasn’t having it. I barely even got it in before he woke up and-“ 

Vi’s face was reddening, “So you raped him and you’re upset that he didn’t like it?”

Paula rolled her eyes and her tone changed to one that you might use if speaking to a slow child. “If he didn’t want me, he wouldn’t have gotten hard. Duh! He’s just a freak, and now we know why. So can you like, unlock that computer? It’s way too hard for me,” she said. 

Vi’s eyes drifted to the terminal flashing quietly on the wall, ears pounding with a heartbeat quickened by fury. She was an idiot. Why had she spent time being upset with Danse instead of just asking him about it after Paula had made that comment before? Coursers were supposed to be logical and cool-headed; so much for that, she thought. Her fingers itched to go to her pistol, her knife, anything, and blow this bitch’s brains out. Or carve them out, maybe. She looked back to Paula’s big blue eyes and realized she wasn’t at all what she thought she was. Stupid and mild mannered as a milk cow, sure, but not at all a nice person. Before all this she’d seemed almost sickeningly pleasant and friendly, but now Vi wanted to puke on the woman’s blue suit for a different reason. 

“Hey, is that him?” She said, pointing quickly behind Paula. The idiot fell for it, spinning around with her laser pistol drawn and trigger finger twitching.

Vi was on her in a second, and didn’t bother with a weapon at all. Her thick, muscular arms wrapped around the chubby blonde in a vicious choke hold and she tightened her grip so hard her muscles screamed with the effort. Paula choked out a scream, but her throat was quickly crushed closed and she was unable to draw in breath for another wail. The woman thrashed wildly and her small, soft hands flew to Vi’s arms around her neck to claw at them. Vi hardly noticed the pain of her skin being scratched away over all the satisfaction of doing what she’d wanted to all along. Maybe a little less self restraint was a good thing after all. 

Rivulets of blood trickled down her arms where Paula’s nails had cut her flesh to ribbons, mixing with the soft blonde curls that hung prettily around the woman’s purpling face.

Her struggling weakened after a few seconds as her blood flow to her brain was all but cut off, and Vi felt a surge of adrenaline when Paula’s arms finally flopped uselessly to her sides, fingers covered in blood. Synth blood, Vi thought strangely. It wasn’t real blood at all if you thought about it. She held the choke hold for another minute just to be sure, and to also burn the memory into her mind because unlike the Prydwen, this _did_ bear remembering, and then she dropped the corpse unceremoniously to the floor. 

Her mind was peacefully empty, though not in the same was as it had been before having her implants removed. This was an organic emptiness that allowed her to appreciate the moment. Every detail of the world was beautiful right then, the insects singing outside the bunker and the stuffy heat of the day that made it hard to breathe and the sight of the only person she had truly hated dead at her feet. Paula’s face was purple still, somehow bloated looking, and caught in a scream. She’d died in fear, and Vi didn’t feel sorry.

“W-what did you _do_?” 

The voice was familiar and oh so welcome. With a choked sob, Vi looked up to see Danse standing in the doorway next to the terminal looking upset. His face was that of someone who’d been crying hard for several hours, and he only wore a white shirt and underwear. She’d rarely seen him outside his power armor and somehow it felt like a different version of the Danse she knew and loved. 

So she ran to him, arms outstretched, and wrapped him in a vicelike hug not unlike the one she’d just used to murder in cold blood. Although this time the hug was not around the person’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was angry at you, I’m sorry you’re a synth. I’m sorry,” she whispered into the shocked man’s neck. He stood still for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the pitiful sight that was Paula, before allowing a hand to drift to her lower back in a cautious reciprocation of the hug. 

“She was just following orders, Vi. Doing what needs to be done. Why?” 

Vi stepped back and leveled a stare at Danse, “You are not going to die today. You’re a person, no matter what fucking Maxson thinks.”

He looked sickened, “I’m a synth, not a person. I need to be made an example of, no matter what you think-“

“I’m a synth too. Am I not a person?” She hadn’t meant to say it, but the words tumbled out faster than she could catch them.

“What?”

She gave him the abridged version of the story. An escaped Institute courser who had decided to slip her bonds after meeting him, who had left everything she’d ever known and betrayed an immensely powerful group of people because she’d taken a shine to him and his group and his passion for their fucked up ideals.

“You’re lying,” he said, though his voice didn’t sound like he was sure. His mouth was open, as if trying to form his next thoughts, when Danse’s brown eyes grew wide and flitted behind her. She furrowed her brow, confused, before turning to see Maxson standing not far from the entrance to the bunker near some brush. How long he’d been hiding there and listening, he had no clue.

“You know, I was worried you might not be able to carry out your orders, Vi. But to murder a fellow soldier and then to admit to being a known synth as well? That’s just incredible!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it enough to leave a comment, I really like reading them!


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